This Tiring Mischief
by purrpickle
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots centering around the plot introduced in Scraps #102 and 103: the Berry family gremlin and its influence. Due to Rachel and Santana's deepening relationship, Santana has found herself inflicted with the strangest of verbal disorders. But, as it turns out, that's only the tip of the iceberg... Note: these will not be in chronological order.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Okay, a) I know what a gremlin is, so please no messages about how I'm writing things wrong. There is a reason for my madness. b) These will not be in chronological order, as this is a collection of drabbles and not an 'official' story; basically, I will write them as the inspiration comes (though if you must know, this is second out of what has been written at this point). c) Is there anything else...? Nope, can't think of anything else other than reiterating that these take place in the same universe as chapters 102 and 103 of Scraps.

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Slapping the note Rachel's father had scrawled for her onto the piano in front of Mr. Schuester, Santana stared challengingly at him, arms crossed with her eyebrows up.

"Santana…?" he asked, frowning and picking up the note, "What is this?"

Santana rolled her eyes. Dropping her arms to wave her hand at him in a _get **on** with it _motion, she barely waited for him to do so before stalking over to a free seat in the back of the risers.

Mr. Schuester quickly read the note. His eyebrows furrowing, he looked up, "Do you need to see the nurse?"

Starting to nod, Santana stopped, looking frustrated. So, instead, she stared at him severely, only relaxing when he grew uncomfortable and nodded, looking away with a muttered, "Right."

Triumphant, Santana sat back, crossing her legs and glaring into space. Agitation starting to cross her face, she sat up when Rachel walked into the choir room five minutes after she usually did and five minutes before class was supposed to start. Opening her mouth, she managed to keep silent until Rachel was slipping into the seat next to her. "You're wearing the same clothes," she accused quietly, hand coming up to grip Rachel's arm.

"I know." Patting Santana's hand, Rachel managed a small smile, "But it's okay, Santana. Did your note work?"

Santana narrowed her eyes. "It didn't. But, yes. I'm going to let you change the subject." Then, looking around the room and determining they weren't drawing too much attention, she softened her expression. "Rache," her hand slid down to squeeze Rachel's before quickly letting go, "Who didn't slushie you?"

Sighing, Rachel shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ear. "It's okay," she whispered, briefly meeting Santana's eyes, "I'm used to it."

"I fucking care if you're used to it," Santana snapped huskily, "Don't tell me who did it."

"Santana." Pressing her fingers to the back of her hand, Rachel smiled at her, "And do what with the information? Tell them to continue slushieing me? Hun." Her voice dropped even more, stroking Santana's hand as she pulled away, "You're sweet, but we're still working on reversing this."

Glaring at her, Santana slowly, reluctantly shook her head in sharp, jerky motions. "I love this."

Rachel nodded, shoulders dropping. "I know, San. I do too." She bit down onto her lower lip, eyes dark, hands curling in her lap, "I'm _so _sorry."

"Since when are you two so chummy?" Puck interrupted, straddling the chair on the level below them and cocking an eyebrow.

Blinking and sliding a neutral expression on her face, Rachel twisted her body in her chair so she no longer faced Santana. "Santana has laryngitis," she answered perfunctorily, "I'm just giving her health tips."

When Puck looked at her, Santana coolly met his gaze.

Running his hand over his mohawk, rocking the chair back and forth, Puck smirked. "Health tips that involve any lesbian-type meeting of your bodies?" he started suggestively, wincing and yelping when Quinn, walking behind him, whacked him on the head.

"Puck, enough. Don't make me throw up."

"Didn't think you were one for homophobia, Quinn," Mercedes commented from the bottom row, not bothering to look up from the nail polish she was currently applying to her nails.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Because I'm not." Sounding exasperated, she took the seat next to Puck, "It's the thought of _Santana _and _Rachel _together that makes me nauseous."

Growling indistinctively under her breath, Santana crossed her arms and shifted in her chair. Looking at Rachel out of the corner of her eye, she let herself feel some pride when it was obvious Rachel was more amused by the discussion than offended.

"What about me and Santana, hypothetically, would be nauseating?" she leaned forward, interrupting Mercedes', "What now?"

"Really?" Turning in her seat, Quinn gave Rachel a searching look, pursing her lips, "I'd think _you_ would be leading the anti-Rachel-and-Santana ship."

Glancing at Santana, Rachel shrugged. "Sure," she started, voice pleasant but purposefully mild, "The initial thought of a relationship between Santana and me would be preposterous…"

Santana managed a snort, affixing a bored glare onto her face.

"_Preposterous_," Rachel repeated, stressing the word, "I believe, if I were to guess how the dynamic between us would work out, it… May not be too bad…"

"It would _suck_," Santana rasped deliberately.

Her eyes flickering over to meet Santana's, Rachel carefully lifted one corner of her mouth up. "Save your voice," she answered sweetly, "Or you could permanently hurt your vocal chords."

Santana put her hand up in a taunting gesture, scowling.

"Right." Shaking her head, Mercedes went back to painting her nails, "They would never work."

Puck studied the two of them again. "I don't know… I could see it," he mused. After a beat, he grinned, "And it would be _hot_."

Using her foot to push against the back of Puck's chair, tipping him backwards as Mr. Schuester called a beginning to the class, Santana pulled her phone out of her pocket. _Worry_, she typed out, sending to Rachel, _I don't luv u. And ur wrong. We're TOTALLY horrible. _

Rachel's smile when she checked her phone five minutes later made a broad smirk spread across Santana's face. And when she received Rachel's _Thank you, San. I love you too_, she was only _just_ able to turn that smirk into a glare when Quinn turned a shrewd look in her direction.


	2. Chapter 2

Feeling the presence of someone coming up to her, Santana sighed when she took in the calculating look on Quinn's face. "Mmm?" she hummed noncommittally, having become adept at making her words neither positive nor negative.

"Santana…" Quinn started slowly, purposefully, staring intently at her, "Is my name Quinn?"

Eyes widening, Santana managed to keep both her head and mouth still. Her mind raced. "Of course it is…" she grit her teeth, muttering under her breath the last, "…N't."

"What's four plus four?"

"Eight would…" Santana closed her eyes as a thick, angry, "_Not_," hissed out in a whisper, "Be the answer."

"Is the sky blue?"

Santana smirked. That was a question she could actually answer. "Yes," she stated firmly.

Quinn blinked. "What? Wait. No. You're not supposed to answer that correctly." Scowling in confusion, she studied Santana closely. "_Ohh_…" she finally nodded, straightening. "Tell me, Santana," she offered faux sweetly, "Does the water in the air, as well as a reflection of the oceans, make the sky _appear _blue?"

Glowering at her, Santana flipped her hair. "I'm sick," she rasped, turning on her heel and striding down the hallway, sliding her phone from her pocket as a prop to use as something to busy herself with. _Rachel_, she quickly typed out, _We don't have a problem with Quinn._


	3. Chapter 3

Sighing happily, dragging her tongue along Rachel's lower lip, Santana lowered herself until everywhere from the WMHS on her Cheerio top to the bottoms of her thighs were pressed into Rachel. "I love you so much," she breathed, kissing her deeply, "I'm so glad you're not Dutch."

However, as soon as those words left her mouth, Santana frowned, able to feel Rachel's surprise as well. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she met Rachel's equally wide eyes. "Did you hear that? It wasn't Brittany's cat."

Rachel's hand slipped around her cheek. "If I didn't know better," she sighed, pushing Santana's chin up to give her a still slightly panty smile, "I'd ask you to try to say something that _didn't _reference Brittany."

Santana, throwing Rachel a weak glare, opened her mouth, paused, then whispered tentatively, "At least the opposites have gone. Will you kiss me until dawn?" Her lips curled up. "Hey baby," she husked, leaning down again to draw Rachel into another kiss, "Want to get wet? You have something I'd really love to pet."

Laughing, Rachel wrapped her arms back around Santana's neck. "I'd suggest we explore this new symptom of yours, but it doesn't seem life threatening. So." She smiled, arching up, nipping Santana's lower lip possessively, "Tell me more about 'petting my wetness'?"

Hissing, moaning roughly, Santana rolled her hips into Rachel's. "You are asking for it," she whispered, hand sliding under Rachel's sweater, "I have some balls to hit."

Rachel's pealing laughter, Santana groaning and dropping her forehead to press it against Rachel's shoulder, hiding her face, only fueled Santana's mumbled, "Talk now before you can't. I's gonna make you come until you only pant."

Rachel mmed, eyes hooded as she smiled up at her. "You'll get this," she trailed her fingers down Santana's cheek, making her shiver, "But I can't wait to hear you perfect it, first." Coaxing Santana into another kiss, she whispered, "Besides, I want to hear what you say when you orgasm..."


	4. Chapter 4

"Berry's lookin' hot today," Santana mused, staring after the small brunette walking briskly down the hall.

"Excuse me?" Quinn scoffed, pulling her math book out of her locker, "Did I hear you correctly? _No_. Man Hands looks like a troll today, doesn't she, Brittany?" She turned to the blonde behind her, who nodded.

"You think she'll lead us to her pot of gold?" Brittany asked. "Lord Tubbington cleaned out my family's bank account again."

Scowling, Santana turned around. "Of _course _I mean it, Q. Berry _always _turns me on." Eyes flashing, a sudden look of total surprise crossed her face. "Wait. No." Santana stared at Quinn. "Rachel Berry is sex on legs. She needs to be forever attached to my crotch." The girl furrowed her brow. "_No_! She needs to never leave my lips. What - **_no_**!" Lapsing into panicked and angry rapid-fire Spanish, Santana's face continued getting redder and redder, her voice rising louder and louder, finally getting loud enough that Mr. Schuester actually ran out of the teacher's lounge.

"Santana!" he gaped, "That language is highly inappropriate!"

"But you're the only one who can understand it," Quinn rolled her eyes, Brittany leaning over to whisper, "Wait – they're not just speaking English with an accent?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **This was prompted by lovecanbesostrange; the little prankster set Santana up so certain words/sounds trigger different physical responses (for example someone sneezes and she pulls the hair of the nearest person). Not really satisfied with this one, but oh well. About time I updated this 'verse. Thanks!

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Rachel pulled a furiously glowering Santana into her house. "Santana! You're soaked!" Immediately leading her to the downstairs bathroom, she kept giving her concerned looks over her shoulder, "What happened?"

Santana only answered her after Rachel had pushed her down on the edge of the bathtub, stripped off her jacket and shirt, and rubbed a towel over her chest and back and face and neck and finally ending with wrapping her hair up into it, "I'm going to kill your gremlin."

Staring down at her, mouth slightly open, Rachel let out a giant sigh, shoulders lowering; touching Santana's cheek, she lightly stroked her knuckles along her skin, "Oh San... I'm so sorry."

Santana nodded, then reached out and pulled Rachel closer, burying her head into her stomach. Hot air pushed through Rachel's shirt as she breathed.

Stroking her shoulder, Rachel closed her eyes. Familiar guilt welled up in her chest. "What happened now?"

Santana slid her hands up and down Rachel's back, fingers playing with the bottom of her shirt. "So I was hangin' with Wheezy, like I told you I was gonna be, right?"

"Mmhm." Rachel softly scratched the bottom of her neck.

"Well, Wheezy's sick. I figured if I just stayed across the room and didn't touch anything she had I'd be fine." Her words slightly muffled as she moved her head up and down, arms falling to loosely hold Rachel's thighs, Santana's shoulders slumped even more under Rachel's hand, "But we had to work on our song. And I guess I was riding high, thinking I had some time before he inflicted another curse on me, you know."

Rachel tried not to shift nervously. Her heart thumped around her rib cage. All things told, the Berry family gremlin had actually been pretty tame for its history, and Rachel had been trying to convince herself it could stay that way. She just hoped... She'd heard horror stories...

"Every time Mercedes coughed, I threw the nearest thing to me at her. I finally had to leave when the only thing left was my laptop, but as I was packing up, she sneezed." Santana laughed humorlessly, muttering, "I kissed her."

_Oh_.

"Got worse when I was leaving and her dog sneezed. At least that time I was allowed to kiss his nose. It's why I walked here. I _wasn't_ going to chance the bus."

"_Santana_..." Dropping down to her knees, Santana's arms sliding up to her shoulders, Rachel cupped Santana's face, "I can't even... I'm so sorry." She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. This wasn't supposed to happen. How could... How was Santana _dealing _with all of this?

Her girlfriend managed a crooked smile. Leaning forward, she bumped her forehead against Rachel's, then kissed her, laughing softly as her turbaned towel slipped down her neck. She pulled it off. "At least it's better than the time he made me sing all of my words. Maybe."

Sitting back, shaking her head, Rachel put her hands over her face. She drew in a deep breath, pulling her shoulders into herself, "Why are you still here?"

"What?" Stopping retwisting the towel around her hair, Santana stared at her.

"Why are you still _here_? With _me_? He messes with you so _much_, and - " Rachel jerked when Santana's hands wrapped around her wrists, moving her hands away as the girl knelt down in front of her. "How is this worth it?"

"Rachel." Her dark eyes meeting Rachel's watery ones, Santana frowned at her. "Stop this. We've been over this."

Rachel looked away. "But..."

Santana poked her chin, making her look back at her. "Stop it. We already know the not-so-welcome gremlin's focused on me. He's not going to go away easily. So even if you..." She gestured at Rachel, then at herself, one corner of her mouth twitching up, "Get a fucking _noble _idea of breaking up with me and staying away to get this to stop, it would take a long, long time. And you know what?"

Licking her lips, Rachel nodded.

"Right." Santana smiled, stroking Rachel's hair behind her ear, "I'd rather be miserable _with _you than be miserable without you. And besides." She shrugged, expression changing into a laissez faire smirk, "This gives me a legit reason to skip school."

Rachel laughed softly, shaking her head, then threw her arms around Santana and hugged her tightly.

"Like, can you imagine?" Santana pitched her voice higher, settling back and pulling Rachel between her legs, "I ain't getting my lips anywhere _near _that hell hole of disgusting losers. The only lips I want, mmhm, are yours."

Just then, Rachel sneezed.

Santana swooped down, pressing her lips to hers firmly, pulling away for only a second before going back in to kiss her more deeply.

Groaning, Rachel kissed back while laughing and trying to separate them at the same time. "Tissue! Santana, tissue!"

"Spoilsport!" Grinning, Santana finally allowed her to reach for a tissue atop the sink. "On one hand, this could be incredibly hot if you're getting sick. But on the other hand, it's also incredibly disgusting. And what if _I _get sick and sneeze? Who am I going to kiss then?"

"I'm sure he's figured that out," Rachel answered, tossing the tissue into the trash and snuggling back into Santana. She shivered. "Your hair's still wet."

Santana wrapped her arms around her. "Then take a shower with me."

Rachel smiled, turning her head to kiss Santana's jaw. "I'd like that."

She really, really would.


End file.
